Tick it did, and though the noise emanating from the paper-block was really more of a “click-click-whirr”, I, at the time, didn’t see much of a difference between the two and headed into the warm, fresh air of Safety that was lingering just outside the office. But then...what?
Yes, caution had been heeded, and heeded well, but as I rolled the idea of Randy's assumed bomb-making acumen around in my head while pacing around the parking lot, I found that my own logic had been mixing very unsatisfactorily with the reality of the situation: Randy was in for a day's worth of trouble if faced with the task of refilling the office stapler; I couldn't conceive of a world in which my dough-headed employee was capable of but one of the intricacies involved in creating an explosive-device...setting the Lawson Detective Agency © Brand Clock alone usually required a fact-finding mission comparable to that of a thesis-paper detailing nuclear space-exploration.
Hence, the possibility of Randy's sudden ascension to expert bomb-technician was as likely as if I had heard he had become an ornery badger - the latter actually more likely, truth be told.
However, the idea that Randy had somehow been set-up began percolating in my head, like the coffee I wished I had made before I darted for freedom. Dammit! I thought to myself, as I headed for my last-resort coffee-shop, the one with the grimy tabletops but tolerable java, to ruminate further on the Danger Quotient (DQ) permeating the office.
Fear is a good motivator, indeed, but no match for the endorphic-madness that an over-caffeinated Detective can muster...and muster I would.
Entry 7
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